


Out With a Bang

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Angst, Angst and Humor, Blood and Gore, Croatoans, Dark Sam Winchester, F/F, M/M, Oral Sex, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 07:11:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1296055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In essence, a lot of apocalyptic sex</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out With a Bang

**Author's Note:**

> I might just delete this, I'm not sure. Sometimes I just want to write porn, and sometimes I just want to write the apocalypse.  
> This is it.  
> Femslash and the other kind of slash and het if I feel so inclined.  
> If you'd like to see a pairing, do let me know. I most certainly will take requests for this fic, or series of fics.  
> The plot may or may not remain consistent. Each chapter could very well be a different version of the apocalypse.  
> We'll see.  
> No bondage this chapter, just so you know.  
> This chapter: mostly Megjo and Destiel.

His eyes are a tempest of colour and danger.

Fresh blood rolls off his fingers, drips onto the pile of mutilated cadavers beneath his feet. He revels in the glorious wreckage of bodies and buildings, the quiet hush of death after play.

In death, they're all the same. The infected, the survivors, the soldiers, the innocents. Watching them rip each other apart is fun up to a point, but sometimes he just needs to get his hands dirty.

"How's that, lover?" Sam murmurs, tilting his head up to dark grey sky.

Within his throat and chest and cock, he feels Lucifer purr with satisfaction.

_You are just aiming to please today_

Sam smiles widely, still staring up at the colourless span of clouds. He pulls his bloodsoaked v-neck off his body, exposing his torso to the chill air. With little effort, he unfolds three sets of massive, shimmering wings.

"Anything for you"

The Boy King and the Devil stand  alone as one flesh, surrounded by a mass of decay and carnage.

White grace and darkened wings spread through the atmosphere, filling the firmament with their power.

This is the end.

***

Dean watches Jo get thrown out of the streets, away from the chaos by some unseen force. She crumples against the wall of some warehouse, hands skidding against rough concrete.

The hunter fires his Kalishnikov at a nearby Croat-zombie-reever-freak and starts towards his fallen comrade. But the screaming crowd thickens with demons and humans and other creatures, and in the struggle to kill everything, he loses sight of Jo.

He doesn't see her get pulled behind the other side of the building.

***

Meg scrapes her teeth against the raw, bruised lips of her fallen huntress.

The kiss tastes of blood and ash.

"Jo, Jo, Jo..." she murmurs breathily, entangling her fingers in a mess of blonde curls.

The air is thick with heat and panic: the city seems to be on fire. There is a symphony of gunshots and screams resonating through the burning night, melody to the song of Death.

"Is now really the time?" Jo hisses guiltily, snatching her hand out from under Meg's shirt. As if she has only just realized that feeling up a hellspawn amidst a violent, apocalyptic battle currently waging in bloodsoaked streets _might_ be considered inappropriate.

Meg rolls her eyes so hard, she almost sees the edge of the universe.

"You got something better to do?" the demon asks, dragging a hand down Jo's chest.

Before Jo can open her mouth to respond, Meg rolls over and pulls the huntress with her before they can experience death by flaming chunk of debris.

"I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be fighting some demonic sons of bitches right about now"

Jo is on top now. She looks down at Meg scathingly, but doesn't make a move to climb off her, either.

Meg raises an expectant eyebrow. Is that so?

She begins writhing slowly, grinding her hips against Jo. Her hands snake around the hunter's waist, pressing against soft, smooth skin.

As Meg makes way to her ass, Jo snatches the demon's wrists tightly, and tilts her head with a sinister kind of smile.

"Guess I'm doing that anyways"

The air is so fucking hot and grimy, and the only plausible action at this point is to rip her own tattered shirt off (hunter approved plaid, naturally) and pin Meg's struggling hands against the dirty pavement.

Jo bites the soft flesh of the brunette's neck, fuelled by the humming of uninhibited moans.

After a particularly aggressive nip, Meg reclaims the use of her hands, snapping them out of Jo's firm grip. She sits up a bit, just enough to get a mouthful of Jo's glorious breasts.

Meg brushes her lips against a nipple and circles around with her tongue. Gently at first.

She crawls her sneaky hand up to the nipple and gives it an abrupt twist. Jo makes a sound like a scream and a hiss.

In retaliation, Jo slams the demon against the ground with a hard kiss. Someone draws blood, but Jo's too furious, too frustrated to notice. She breaks the kiss to tear off Meg's jeans.

Meg is yanking at Jo's hair, squirming with anticipation. Jo forces her thighs apart, then takes a moment to slow down. She kisses up the inside of Meg's thighs, torturously working her way up the soaking fabric of her black panties. She's licking and kissing as slow as is humanly possible, and Meg is making very distressed noises.

Jo pulls aside the satin and rolls her tongue against Meg's gorgeous, wet lips.

Jo works around and in, often flicking her tongue against that hard clit. The demon's legs are trembling violently, but Jo pushes them down and continues her art.

She keeps sucking and licking until Meg is screaming bloody murder.

The demon hitches her hips away and grabs Jo by the hair. She pulls her up top so that their sweat soaked bodies are pressed together, with Meg twisting her hands under the hunter's bare breasts.

They grind against eachother, biting back moans of pleasure. They're a mess of limbs and hair and erotic sighs when suddenly

"Ever heard of knocking, Winchester?"

Jo looks up to see what Meg is snarking at: Dean Winchester aiming his weapon with a look of sheer confusion on his features.

A long couple of seconds elapse before the initial shock wears off. He lowers his gun with disgusted exasperation.

"There is a war going on, people" he mutters, turning back to the direction of the bloodshed.

Wow. Seriously? They couldn't have chosen  time to play gay, interspecies erotica? They should be ashamed of themselv-

"Hello Dean"

Without even thinking, Dean spins around, grabs the front of the angel's trenchcoat and pulls them both into the privacy of an empty apartment complex. (Empty as most of the tenants are dead or dying in the streets as we speak)

"Where the HELL have you been?" the hunter demands, still clenching Castiel's coat.

"I thought you were dead, I thought Sa-.....Lucifer k-"

"I don't know" the angel replies, his blue eyes earnest.

Dean hisses out a sigh of utter relief. Alive. He's alive.

Oh thank GOD.

Or...whoever.

"How did you find me?" he asks, softer now. He relaxes his grip from the coat, but still holds Castiel close. He finds he is leaning in to the angel, unwilling to relive another separation. Not again.

"I heard your prayers. You never stopped, not for a moment. All I could hear, from the minute I was brought back to this dying world, was your voice. Like a beacon in the da-"

Castiel's response is cut as Dean grabs his tie and pulls their faces closer than they have ever been.

It appears that Dean is no longer concerned with the personal space he is always complaining about.

This is confirmed as the hunter presses his lips against Castiel's, and kisses him with a long repressed desperation.

The angel responds almost immediately, as if the sole purpose of his return to life is to make love to Dean Winchester. He pushes Dean against the slightly shattered glass door to the apartment lobby. He bites Dean's bottom lip, his throat, his collar bone.

Dean is already stripping off his shirt (like Jo, he is wearing approved Hunter's plaid), guiding Castiel's fingers down the muscles on his stomach.

The angel leaves claw marks on his abs as he scratches down, down to the hem of Dean's jeans.

Cas takes a moment to shrug off his coat. Then, in one swift movement, he pulls Dean's face in for a rough kiss and slips his fingers down the hunter's pants.

He gives the hunter's balls a quick squeeze, then circles the head of his already-erect cock with his thumb.

Dean moans against the angel's lips, enjoying the moment. He slides his tongue across Cas's teeth and slowly tugs his own pants down, allowing the angel better access to his cock.

Castiel takes advantage of this: he runs one hand firmly against Dean's shaft, while the other hand massages the area around Dean's perineum.

Outside, the sound of smashing glass and grenades and thunder grow closer, but neither Castiel nor Dean can be bothered to give a fuck at this particular moment in time.

With determined pressure, Dean pulls down at Castiel's hair until the angel sinks to his knees. Still rubbing behind Dean's balls, Castiel gives a few experimental licks across the length of Dean's shaft. He flicks his tongue experimentally around the head, satisfied by the verbal reaction this elicits.

Dean is making soft noises, running his trembling fingers through Castiel's messy, dark hair.

Done teasing, Castiel pulls the massive cock into his mouth and down his throat. He bobs his head, working up a rhythmic movement. All the while, his fingers squeeze Dean's balls or rub his shaft. Often he stops to give the head a few firm sucks, or to press it against the back of his tongue.

After a while, Dean begins cursing with alarming volume. His hands ball up into fists and he tightens his grip on Castiel's hair. With a sudden motion, he pushes the angel onto his back and thrusts his cock deep into his throat. With a few more powerful movements, a gush of semen spills into Castiel's mouth and on his lips. Dean rolls onto his back beside him, and lies, breathing heavily. Exhausted.

Holy fuck.

"Da-amnit Cas," he chokes out, still affected by the holy power of his orgasm.

"You're an angel"

"Is that...a flirtation?"

Outside, silence falls like a shroud on the chaos.

Looks like a special guest has arrived to the city.

Dear fucking lord.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear what you think! Seriously, I know I'm not very good at writing smut, so this is my practice ground. Any suggestions or corrections or love or hate is appreciated :)


End file.
